Airport 79 - The Concorde - The Missing Scenes
by gluegirl56
Summary: Paul and Joe's thoughts as they landed the Concorde at Le Bourget Isabelle's newfound love for her old lover Paul.
1. Trying to stop a bullet with cray paper

**Airport ´79 – The Concorde – The Missing Scenes**

Like trying to stop a Bullet with Cray Paper

He didn't know what to expect, he only knew that there was a problem with the aircraft's hydrodynamic functions. Their flight engineer said the brakes were not fully operational and after hearing that he'd decided to land at Le Bourget instead of Charles De Gaulle. The decision would cause a delay for the passengers and they would most likely complain about it but at the moment Paul Metrand didn't really care. To go for landing at a fast pace airport like De Gaulle with high intensity traffic on all the runways and not knowing if he would have any brakes was like begging for a disaster to happen.

He suddenly felt the urge to loosen his tie and fought to keep his mind focused at the present as he tightened his grip around the yoke. The Concorde responded albeit a bit sluggishly to his commands and he let out a shaky, shallow breath as he heard his co-pilot start to give him airspeed and distance. With experienced hands he eased the aircraft down on the runway, the wheels gently touching the ground. She rushed down the lane like a sleek greyhound racing after a rabbit, she was going too fast. Paul saw the first net deploy and within seconds they'd passed it without as much as a twig. Joe continued to report speed and distance but Paul didn't really hear him, the truth was that there was nothing else he could do that he wasn't already doing to slow the white lady down.

He was practically stomping the brake pedals through the floor as it was. He narrowed his eyes as the second net appeared before them but like the first one the aircraft dodged it easily and his hope of managing a complete stop before the end of the runway diminished for every second. 'Come on', he mused as the third net gently nudged the plane, trying to hold it in its grip. Once again the aircraft managed to slip through.

"Two hundred meters to the end of the runway, Paul," Joe said grimly. "After that this plane buys us a farm."

At that moment the fourth and last net rose before them. The nose gently kissed the orange net and passed through with grace but then the net tangled around the body of the aircraft and ensnared it. As the net was stretched to the limit the Concorde came to an abrupt halt while the passengers was being held back brutally by their belts and then slammed into their seats. Paul felt the shoulders straps dig into his flesh and he grimaced as tense muscles in his neck and shoulders protested the rough treatment. Then it was all over, the large white aircraft had ended her mad dash just within the limit of the runway.

Paul let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding and slumped back in his chair with a glance at Joe who sat to his right. The older captain looked just as relieved.

Joseph Patroni was in fact chuckling with delight as he reached for the microphone and keyed the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen-" he began and then paused for a brief moment to punctuate his statement. "-welcome to Paris."

"You forgot the – thank you for flying with Federation World Airlines," Paul said with a faint grin yet the statement was dripping with sarcasm.

The CEO of the Federation World Airlines gently gripped his shoulder from where he was sitting, behind the captain's seat. "Thank _you_ , Paul, for flying the aircraft," he returned seriously, gratefully, before he reached out with his other hand to gently squeeze Joe's shoulder as well. "Thank you, both of you."

There was a moment of silence, only the sirens from the vehicles outside could be heard. Then Eli shrugged, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well, boys. I better head back to the cabin and my wife. I can't let such a beauty wait long."

Joe shook his head in amusement.

"Can I get you anything?" The president of Federation World Airlines asked.

"With all the excitement, I don't know," Paul said softly. "Does anyone have any Cuban cigars? I feel like celebrating."

Eli laughed. "As a matter of fact," he said smugly as he retrieved a fresh cigar from the inner pocket of his jacket. "I happen to have one right here and I've got to tell you. No one deserve it better than you."

The statement elicited a snort from the younger captain as he accepted it and watched the CEO leave the cockpit.

Joe let out a low whistle and shook his head. "What a ride," he mused as he leaned toward the side window to watch the maintenance workers raise the ladders to the exits of the aircraft.

"Well, we're down aren't we?" Paul said with a twinkle in his eyes, feeling very pleased with himself all of a sudden.

"You know, Paul, when I asked around about you, they said you were one hell of a pilot," Joe said seriously. "I believe them."

The younger French captain frowned, then with a casual shrug of his shoulders answered cockily; "Well, you're not too bad yourself."

"Of course you couldn't have done it without that smart British flight engineer sitting behind you," Peter filled in with a sly smile as he reached for his briefcase.

"A fine teamwork, O'Neill," Joe said with a grin as he turned to look behind him to the flight engineer's station.

There was a sharp knock on the door before it opened, not waiting for allowance. Isabelle Delé, the woman in charge of flight deck and the cabin crew worriedly stuck her head inside. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Paul turned slightly in his seat and gave her a soft but reassuring smile. "We're fine, Isabelle. Just take care of the passengers."

She nodded, looking relieved. "There's a doctor onboard, and a worried mother to a very sick child. They only booked a ticket on this flight so that they could reach Paris faster. They are carrying a transplant with them and it crucial that they reach the hospital as fast as possible. Can you please arrange that?"

"Sure," Paul returned. "Just tell me where they want to go."

Isabelle glanced behind her and stepped to the side as a man in his forties appeared in the doorway. "Better talk to him directly," she suggested.

The doctor nodded politely to the flight engineer and the co-pilot before focusing on Paul. "Captain, I hope everything's all right in here," he said in an American accent.

"We're just fine," Paul assured him as he reached for his headset. "Just tell me where you want to go?"

"That would be much appreciated, captain. We need to get to the American Hospital in Paris immediately. It is imperative if we're to be able to use the transplanted heart we've brought with us over the Atlantic Ocean."

Paul nodded, keyed the microphone and then spoke in rapid French to the flight manager in the tower. Within a minute he discarded his headset and pushed a button on the panel, shut down the connection and turned toward the doctor. When he spoke again it was in fluent English. "There will be a helicopter here in five minutes, it will take you to the hospital as soon as possible. That's the best I can do," he offered.

"Thank you captain, I couldn't have asked for more," the doctor said in appreciation as he turned to go. "I wish I could say it's been a pleasant trip."

Joe laughed but it was without mirth. "Me too, Doc. It wasn't pleasant for any of us," he said truthfully.

The doctor chuckled lightly. "I figured as much," he said in a lighter tone as he began to walk away.

"Well, thank you for flying with Federation World Airlines," Joe hollered after him.

Paul shook his head, unable not to laugh, as he gently slapped his co-pilots shoulder. "Now, find me some light so I can enjoy this thing," he said nodding toward the cigar in his left hand.

"Would the flare gun do?" Joe asked mischievously.

"I think you've played enough with that as it is," Paul pointed out.

"Here," Peter said as he produced a lighter. "I told you, you couldn't do without me."

OOOOOO

 **AN:** _I don't know, blame it on my bad taste in movies. I can't explain why but I love this movie. I love Paul and Isabelle, they have so much potential. Anyway, I own nothing connected to the movie. This is a fanfic after all. And when it comes to flying I know absolutely nothing._


	2. Je'taime

**Airport ´79 – The Concorde – The Missing Scenes**

 **Chapter Two** – Je t'aime

Isabelle marveled about the words spoken to her earlier as she carefully tilted her head to look at the man next to her in bed. She still wasn't sure she'd actually heard him correctly. They'd met sporadically over a couple of years but she didn't know him that well, she hadn't had the chance too. Some of her friends called it an on/off relationship.

At one time they'd stayed together for several months but then Paul had just disappeared from the face of the earth. She remembered that day clearly, the day she'd come home late to an empty and dark apartment, the day she'd found a note addressed to her. She still remembered the stinging tears that sprung from her eyes as she read the handwritten words; 'I'm sorry'.

Isabelle shook her head sadly at the memory. She knew Paul was restless, that he didn't really like commitments and that he didn't like to stay at one place for a longer period of time or to keep company to just one woman. Some of her friends had started to tell her that it was just a matter of time before he left her completely. She'd refused to believe them then, she'd even laughed at them. Paul was a good looking man and he knew it too, he even used that occasionally when it suited his purposes.

It had taken her months to get over him back then but now, when they'd met each other again, she found herself unable to hate him, and instead she realized she'd never really gotten over him and that she loved him even more. But now when he'd finally told her that he loved her, the words she'd craved to hear for so long, she was afraid he was just making it up, afraid that he would toss her to the wind again.

She sighed wearily and wondered why he had to make her life so complicated as she eased closer to him to lay her head on his chest. "Je'taime, Paul," she whispered.

The sound of her soft voice brought him out of his troubled light sleep and he couldn't help but to smile faintly. He just wished her words would have brought him out of his troubled thoughts as well. Every time he tried to sleep he was back up there, flying the Concorde, dodging the missiles fired from that crazed fighter jet. Then he was plunging toward the ocean with all engines off and he hated water. It had always been his worst fear to crash on water, to be trapped in the aircraft while it sank to the bottom of the ocean. Still, his love to fly overrode his anxiety, it was just that it had been so close this time – too close. He could have died, taking everyone else with him in the fall from the sky. He'd never been that close to dying before, not even during the war, and it scared him. It made him look at life more clearly, made him rethink what he really wanted out of it. Suddenly the large parties, all the good looking women he enjoyed flirting with, the casual acquaintances – they weren't enough anymore.

He let out a deep sigh as he glanced down at the brown haired woman whose head was resting comfortably on his chest and slowly began to drift into a light sleep without any dreams. There was, after all, a new day tomorrow and he was required to fly the aircraft to Moscow in order to complete the maiden flight the Concorde was making for the Federation World Airlines.

OOOOOO


End file.
